Bruce Wayne and the Chamber of Secrets
by Walter Kovacs
Summary: Our hero's second year at Hogwarts. Watch as he deals with friends, enemies, and some nut called 'The Heir of Slytherin'.
1. Party Time

Bruce Wayne and the Chamber of Secrets

Chapter One: Party Time

Located on the eastern coast of the United States is a most peculiar city. It was founded at roughly the same time as its northern neighbor of New York, though the designers were not quite as clear-headed. One educated observer probably put it best when he stated quite bluntly that they were "English Masons on opium". Perhaps it is this auspicious beginning that marked the city as a future haven for the worst that humanity had to offer. It certainly did not help things that in 1765 there were rumors about strange demonic rituals being performed at the farm of one Jacob Stockman, though these stories would eventually fade with time.

Many that count themselves among the educated elite of the city would say that it did not truly take a descent into degeneracy until the 1920s, when Gotham was architecturally renovated by a previously-mentioned observer referred to as "absinthe-fiend architects." It was at this time that Gotham acquired its unique look, which reminded many a visitor of expressionist paintings that were popular at the time. Considering all of this, perhaps it can be said that Gotham never truly had a chance to become a shining beacon of civilization, despite the best efforts of others.

Thomas Wayne, for instance, spent many hours toiling away in the hopes of making Gotham a decent place for people to live. As a reward for these heroic efforts, he was gunned down in the street alongside his beloved wife by a common thug. Such was the legacy of Gotham City, which was a fact that did not go unnoticed by Wayne's only son, Bruce. He was only eight years of age when he witnessed his parents murdered in the street now affectionately known as 'Crime Alley'. Soon after, indeed it was only the space of a few days, Bruce made a vow on the graves of his parents. The boy swore that he would dedicate his life to ridding the city of the evil that infected it like a cancer, and took parents away from children that loved them.

To this end, Bruce immediately began researching every crime-related piece of information he could get his hands on. By the time he was eleven, he already knew more about crime and deduction than most people who had graduated from high school and were considering a future in law enforcement. This drive to consume anything and everything relating to the particulars of crime would have gone interrupted had it not been for the timely arrival of a most interesting owl. In its talons the owl carried a letter from the Deputy Headmistress of a place called 'Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry". Needless to say, the letter completely upended Bruce's young life. A whole new world was exposed to him, one filled with magic and mystery. It was an opportunity he simply could not allow to pass by.

Therefore, Bruce put his studies on the nature of criminality on hold in order to learn about spells and incantations that could conjure materials out of thin air and put a stopper in death. It should be understood that Bruce never for even the tiniest second considered abandoning his self-appointed mission to purify his home city. The boy simply allowed himself to be side-tracked by other matters, which in their own way were far more dangerous than anything that currently stalked the streets of Gotham. This was made especially clear to Bruce at the end of his first year at Hogwarts when he and three other students found themselves challenging a dark wizard so feared that even to mention his name provoked immediate terror in others.

Somehow they survived and, though he certainly never sought it, an unlikely bond of friendship had formed between the Slytherin and the three Gryffindors. However, due to his own decidedly anti-social inclinations, Bruce did not make any special effort to pursue this friendship over the summer. In fact, he had allowed all contact with the wizarding world to lapse as he isolated himself within the corridors of Wayne Manor. There had been one letter from an insufferably nice (at least, from Bruce's point of view) member of the aforementioned trio named Hermione Granger. However, Bruce's rather curt reply had ensured that there would be no further communication from her for quite a while.

As such, Bruce had locked himself away in one of the Manor's basements to spend time on various chemistry projects. It should be noted that these projects were indeed the muggle definition of chemistry, and not its magical counterpart, which would be potions. These were designed with the express purpose of catching the boy up on the criminal research he had neglected during his time at Hogwarts. He was just finishing an experiment involving corrosive acids in relation to the wiring commonly used in security alarms when the ever-loyal butler Alfred came down.

"Sir, I don't mean to interrupt your mad scientist impression, but I must remind you that Ms. Vreeland's birthday party starts in an hour." Bruce looked up from his chemicals and removed the goggles covering his eyes.

"I'll be up in a minute, Alfred."

Writing down his last few observations, Bruce set down his pen (it was still a bit odd not to use a quill) and walked up the stairs. After making his way to his bedroom and stepping inside, he found that Alfred had already laid out the dress clothes needed for the evening's activities, complete with a small bow tie. He untied the lab apron that he was still wearing and was about to throw it on the bed when Alfred suddenly materialized behind him. That old butler was sneakier that Ms. Norris and had an odd sort of precognition in regards to his young master's ability to act like the average twelve year old boy in regards to clothing. Bruce handed the elder gentleman the apron and began to speak.

"How old is she again, Alfred?"

"Thirteen, sir." Bruce walked over to the bathroom just adjoining his bedroom and started to wash his hands.

"What am I getting her this year?"

"A dress from the Donna Day 'Krazy Kids' collection, sir." Alfred then handed the boy the dress shirt and pants in exchange for the shirt Bruce had currently been wearing. He then turned to fold the lab clothes.

"I have been assured by the finest, most expertly trained people in the store's sales division that it is exactly what the young 'tween' girl wants in order to be fashionable."

" 'Tween', Alfred?" Bruce had exited the bathroom fully dressed, aside from the lack of a coat, and was now working on the tie.

"It is the current term used to describe girls age 12-14 that fit into the marketing demographic." Seeing that the boy was going nowhere quickly, Alfred moved in to properly wrap the bow tie around his neck. Bruce fidgeted throughout, clearly trying to think of a way to avoid the inevitable.

"Are there any particularly famous performers that I should be aware of in order to fit in among the others?" Now finished with the tie, Bruce had moved on to the coat.

"I'm afraid that such things are beyond even my broad scope of knowledge. My advice would be to simply smile and nod should you be asked any questions relating to the topic." Now finished dressing, Bruce followed Alfred outside to the car. The butler opened the back seat, allowing his charge to get in, before placing himself in the driver's seat.

As Alfred guided the Rolls off the bluff Wayne Manor was situated on, Bruce reminded himself why he was bothering to attend a birthday party for a spoiled little rich girl. Such activities were normally quite repugnant to the boy, but his own status as Gotham's favorite son left him little choice. Veronica Vreeland was not simply hosting a party for herself – if that were the case, Bruce would have been able to get out of it. Instead, she was hosting the singular social event for the wealthy and powerful in Gotham City. The origins of how it happened are somewhat murky, but the actual giving of gifts somehow became nothing more than a pretense for the adults to confer with each other about the coming year. While Veronica 'entertained' the sons and daughters of the elite, the parents gathered themselves in private to discuss business deals, plan political appointments and nominations, and generally make connections that would ensure an increase in their already substantial wealth and power.

As the saying went, everyone who was anyone would be there. The Falcones, the Maronis, the Madisons, the Hills, the Winters, the list went on and on. Crime bosses and industrialists alike mingled together, with varying degrees of cordiality. Yet, whatever enmity might be between them was of no consequence, even though some names on the guest list could not stand to be in the same room as each other. As a result of this, the young began to take after their elders, turning it into an event for those who might be slightly older than you would expect to see. The sons and daughters of the old guard imitated their progenitors by making connections of their own.

Again, the private Bruce Wayne would like nothing more to ignore the whole lot of them. The public Bruce Wayne however, the one that was heir to a vast fortune and had every reason to make important friends, was a bit of a different story. Snubbing the party would result in some eyebrows being raised and some awkward questions being asked. Questions that, while not immediately problematic, could become incredibly troubling at a later date and result in severe obstacles to The Plan to clean up Gotham. For better or for worse, Bruce had to convince his peers that he was just as vain and arrogant as they were. So, he swallowed his pride and prepared to enter the belly of the beast.

Despite this resolve and rationalizing, Bruce could not help but think that he would prefer another fight with a mountain troll. As the car pulled up to the front gate, Alfred could not help but notice the sour expression on the boy's face.

"Cheer up, Master Bruce. This is your chance to display your charming wit for all to see." The sour expression did not go away.

"I'm only going to be completely miserable, Alfred."

"Master Bruce, you are going to go inside and enjoy the company of the other children. If you do not, I shall be forced to render unto certain parties the photographs of your attempt at baking at age seven." Bruce's eyes narrowed.

"This is blackmail." Alfred had to suppress a chuckle.

"I prefer to think of it as encouragement, Master Bruce." In fact, the Englishman was somewhat desperately hoping that his charge would take this occasion to actually act his age for once. He handed the boy a small box with the dress inside.

"Remember, Master Bruce – smile and nod." Bruce gave a grunt of grudging acquiescence and got out of the car.

The mansion was ornately decorated, as expected. Large banners proclaiming well wishes to the birthday girl were draped from the ceiling. At the center of the main room was a cake that looked more like a piece of architecture than something one planned to eat. Standing at the doorway to the main room, Bruce reflected on the number of families that could have been fed with the money spent on just the decorations. He was considering making a break for it and risking Alfred's wrath when a shrill voice broke his concentration.

"Bruuuucciiiieeeeeeee!" There was no mistaking the squeal that belonged to Veronica Vreeland. The red-headed young socialite skipped over to him.

"I'm _so_ glad you could make it. Isn't everything just so _magical_?" Thinking of the decorations at Hogwarts, Bruce decided that yes, he would definitelyprefer another fight with a mountain troll. Putting a smile on his face, he embraced the girl.

"Oh, it's definitely something, Ronnie. Just what I would expect for someone like you." The girl blushed and noticed the wrapped package.

"Is that for me? Oh, Brucie, you shouldn't have." She quickly tore off the paper and gave an excited series of squeaks.

"I love it! Oh Brucie, you know just what to give a girl." She gave him another bouncy hug. "Come and meet the others!" Taking Bruce's hand, she led him to a gathering of other children.

"Everyone, this is Brucie." Though he shook hands and gave a friendly smile that fooled all of them, Bruce had inwardly decided that a troll was not bad enough. He would prefer to be back in the Forbidden Forest, tracking down a unicorn killer rather than waste time here. The last boy, however, caught his attention. He was a thin specimen, with large, thick glasses.

"Alberto Falcone." It was then that Bruce recognized him – the younger son of Carmine 'the Roman' Falcone, Gotham's untouchable crime lord. The boy looked out of place, as if he was not sure what to do with himself. Veronica then led the majority of the group over to the colossus that was her birthday cake, but Alberto hung back and Bruce, ever curious, did so as well.

"Bruce Wayne, huh?" Alberto took a sip from his glass. "Didn't your dad once help out my dad?"

"Yes," Bruce replied. "It had something to do with my dad being a doctor."

In fact, Bruce vividly remembered the night Carmine Falcone had been brought to Thomas Wayne's doorstep, bleeding to death from bullet wounds. Bruce's father had saved Falcone's life that night, ensuring that Carmine would go on to become one of the most ruthless men in the city. Bruce would often wonder about the morality of his father's actions on that day, but in the end he knew that his father would never turn away anyone in need of medical treatment, no matter what illegal activities that person was involved in. He considered human life too inherently valuable to let it go to waste under any circumstances. There were times when the boy wondered if he was capable of making the same decision.

"Well, maybe you could help me out a bit. I never know what to do at these things, and I just end up as a wallflower. Could you, y'know, give me some advice?" Bruce thought for a moment, then answered.

"Alberto, all you have to do is smile and nod. That's what most people want. Do that and you'll be fine." Falcone's face brightened.

"Really? That's it? Thanks. I would have asked my dad, but he's too busy with work to and my brother Mario doesn't like me around. They only have time for me on the holidays. My birthday's on a holiday, you know? Valentine's Day. I guess that's why I've always like holidays. Anyway, I'm gonna catch up with the others. You coming?" Bruce shook his head, and Alberto left, leaving the young Wayne slightly relieved. Any longer and he would have launched into a series of rants detailing the criminal acts that Alberto's father and brother were sure to be involved in and how they should be locked away with the key thrown out. Instead, he walked over to the refreshments table to get some punch and found himself chatting with the other children there. It was tedious, but no one would think of Bruce Wayne as anything other than the average, self-absorbed socialite because of it.

After several minutes, Bruce glanced around and saw none other than a teenage Mario Falcone, surrounded by a group of similarly-aged peers. Upon closer observation, it became clear that Falcone was, in fact, slightly drunk and so were his companions, including the sixteen year-old female hanging on Mario's arm. After a few more minutes, Falcone and what Bruce assumed to be the latest girlfriend broke off from the others and headed to a nearby broom closet. As they went in, Bruce realized that he had just been handed a unique opportunity, one that simply could not be passed up. Searching the crowd, he soon located General Vreeland, who had just finished talking with a few of what may have been his friends. Bruce tugged on his coat and used his best 'young' voice.

"Mister? One of the butlers said that they needed you to look at something in the broom closet over there. It has to do with the 'surprise' later." The General had a habit of arranging last-minute surprise gifts for his daughter on her birthday. Looking disgruntled, the older man stomped off, muttering to himself. It was at that time that Bruce decided to make himself scarce, finding an out of the way corner to view the oncoming show. He did not have to wait long.

"WHAT IN GOD'S NAME?" The shout immediately attracted everyone's attention. "FALCONE! Get your son under control!"

Mr. Vreeland then stomped off in search of the crimelord while Mario, who had literally been caught with his pants down (but thankfully had gotten his boxers up) waddled out of the closet, shouting numerous words that had no place at a children's birthday party. He then drew a pistol and looked ready to shoot when a member of the Roman's entourage – a leg-breaker named Milos – grabbed him and took the gun away. There was some shouting between the two, and Mario finally pulled his pants up. The young Falcone then attempted to walk away in a huff, but was still inebriated enough that he ended up colliding with the cake in the center of the room.

Just to make things even more interesting, Carmine himself then walked into the room, looking murderous. Bruce wanted to stay and witness the rest, but it would be awkward, considering that the rest of the guests had already started to file out. Thus, it was with great reluctance that he decided to depart with the rest. After getting into the car, he found that Alfred was eyeing him suspiciously.

"Master Bruce, why do I have the feeling that you are somehow responsible for this chaos?" The boy fought to suppress a grin.

"Why Alfred, I was merely socializing, just like you asked me to."

It was an amazing coup. He did not have to spend any more time with arrogant snots, the Falcones were humiliated and the Vreeland birthday party was about to experience an incredibly significant decrease in prestige, ensuring that he would never have to attend one again. Not a bad night's work.

* * *

Notes:

Well, here it is - the first chapter of the sequelto the somewhat popular _Bruce Wayne and the Sorcerer's Stone_. I hope no one hates me for this, but I decided to try my hand at a little bit of light comedy in this installment before moving Bruce back into Hogwarts. Please, let me know if I should never even think about doing something like this again. Sending me hateful reviews is the only way I'll learn.

Also, as I have no doubt that many fellow Bat-geeks will know, this chapter was crammed with references toand foreshadowingof various bits of Bat-lore. Can you spot the reference to the obscure Riddler story from the late 80s, early 90s? I bet you can.

Lastly, one of the reviewers for _Sorcerer's Stone_ asked if I would be including any of Batman's future foes in my writings. Well, obviously I have put in plenty, just in this chapter. However, don't expect to see a young Harvey Dent, Selina Kyle or Oswald Cobblepot start poking around Hogwarts. I made a point early on that I would not be writing the adventures of magical young Batman versus magical young Catwoman or Penguin.

That said, I probably will be bringing in some elements of the DC universe that are around while Bruce is young. Don't be surprised if Etrigan shows his demonic features at some point, along with other magical entities and immortals like Felix Faust or Vandal Savage. And Ra's Al Ghul? Well...maybe...


	2. Back to Diagon Alley

Bruce Wayne and the Chamber of Secrets

Chapter Two: Back to Diagon Alley

After arriving at the manor, Bruce felt confident that the evening could not get any better. It was then that he noticed two owls flying straight towards the window. Quickly opening it, the birds came in and deposited two letters. One was a yellowish parchment, with letters written in green ink. It was from Hogwarts. Opening it, Bruce found that it contained a list of books he would need for the upcoming year.All of them save for one were written by a man named 'Gilderoy Lockhart'.

"This Lockhart fellow seems to be quite popular." Alfred had come in and noticed the parchment in Bruce's hand.

"I read about him in _Famous Wizards of the Twentieth Century_. He's supposedly one of the greatest wizards alive. Some are willing to even rank him with Dumbledore."

"Apparently, he has a very good press agent to help him along." Alfred remarked with the usual sarcasm.

Choosing not to respond to that last bit, Bruce turned his attention to the other letter. It was written on plain parchment and could only have come from a certain female Gryffindor. Opening it, he found that his suspicions were correct – Hermione Granger had indeed contacted him. Hoping it was not some pointless bit of fluff (the various false sentiments he had endured over the years removed his desire for anything of that sort) he began to read the letter.

_Dear Bruce,_

_Your last letter made it very clear that you're not someone who enjoys idly passing the time in conversation, so you needn't worry about me taking up your time sentimental platitudes. It's simply that it has been such a long time since I've heard from you that I felt the need to write, if only to see that you haven't dropped off the face of the earth._

"You know, Master Bruce, letter-writing is a valid way of improving one's vocabulary and writing style." Bruce could only roll his eyes at Alfred's needling.

_I suppose you haven't bothered to keep in touch with either Ron or Harry, so you'll be unaware of Ron's plan to rescue Harry from his relatives, who have apparently been keeping him from getting any mail. I do hope Ron doesn't try anything illegal that could get him and Harry in trouble._

Bruce fought the urge to smile. Knowing Weasley, 'something illegal' was exactly what he was going to do in order to retrieve his friend. Gryffindors could be so incredibly foolish at times.

_I've been very busy with schoolwork, as I expect you have been as well. My parents are taking me to London next Wednesday to buy new books for the upcoming year. Could you meet us there? I'm going to write to Ron and Harry about it and I think it would be wonderful if we could meet up before the start of term._

_Sincerely, Hermione_

Bruce had to stop and think for a moment. While the idea of 'meeting up' with the Gryffindor trio was not exactly his idea of a rousing good time, it would be a good idea to keep an eye on them. If last year was any indication, they would surely be right in the middle of whatever notable events occurred at Hogwarts. Not to mention that it would be interesting to see how Potter himself was doing several months after the battle with Quirrell and Voldemort. The opportunity to take stock of Harry's mental condition was certainly valuable, if only as a way of assessing the boy's capabilities and willpower.

"Shall I make the necessary arrangements, Master Bruce?" Alfred had, of course, read the letter over Bruce's shoulder. It was obvious that the butler saw this as a chance for the boy to open up to others around his age, especially considering the time they had spent together last year.

"Yes Alfred, I think I will meet Hermione and the others." Alfred smiled.

"Very good, sir. I shall have us in London by tomorrow."

With that, the butler set off to make the necessary phone calls. Bruce, meanwhile, continued to muse over how he should react to the Gryffindor trio. He had certainly earned a place in their confidence, but he could not honestly predict how quickly their goodwill could run out. He was, after all, still a Slytherin, which was the traditional rival to Gryffindor, in addition to having a notorious reputation for churning out a number of dark wizards. What did not concern him were the possible reactions the members of his house would have to the sight of one of their own associating with the three star members of Gryffindor. He had gone an entire year with only minimal interaction in regards to the other members that populated Slytherin and could easily do so again. Putting such thoughts out of his mind, Bruce pulled out his copy of _Notable Wizards of the Twentieth Century_ and set about checking up on Gilderoy Lockhart. After the Quirrell debacle, he was going to carefully research every future teacher he had.

* * *

It was cloudy when Bruce and Alfred arrived in London, which was to be expected. They had arrived a day early of the appointment in Diagon Alley, so Alfred hailed a cab to deliver the two to the residence in England that Bruce had spent six months of last year in. They unpacked their materials, had a spot of dinner, and went to bed.

Wednesday morning Alfred woke his charge a little early, in order to arrive in time. A little after breakfast, they drove to the Leaky Cauldron, which was the entrance point for those from non-magical families.Walking through the tavern itself, Bruce had to reflect on the fact that absolutely no one would expect it tobe the place where one could find a way to enter a community of magical wonders. Whoever conceived of the idea for it should have been commended on a particularly clever idea: no one in their right mind would go poking about a place like the Leaky Cauldron for hidden entrances.

After tapping the appropriate bricks and opening the wall, Bruce and Alfred were once again greeted by the commotion that seemed common to Diagon Alley. As was the situation last year,it was filled with witches and wizards of various shapes and sizes going to and fro while carrying a number of objects. Doubtlessly, a good number of them were looking to procure school supplies for their children's new year at Hogwarts.

"Where shall we start looking for your friend, Master Bruce?" The boy performed a quick scan of the crowd, then answered.

"Gringotts. Her parents are muggles, so they'll want to exchange their money for wizard currency."

With that, the two entered the great mass of people, trying to reach Gringotts bank. After what Bruce was sure to be an unnecessary amount of effort, they finally found themselves at the steps leading up to the renowned repository of wealth. Once they reached the entrance at the top of the stairs, Bruce asked Alfred to stay put, feeling sure that Hermione and her parents would be along at any minute. Just as he predicted, the Grangers did arrive after a relatively brief amount of time had passed. The Gryffindor rushed up the stairs to greet the boy she considered to be her friend, albeit something of an especially grumpy one.

"I'm so glad you made it. I was looking forward to getting the four of us together again. Ron and Harry should be here soon. How have you been?"

"Fine." Bruce had to admit (privately and reluctantly, of course) that her enthusiasm was slightly contagious. Unlike the empty greetings of the rich he had endured back in Gotham, Hermione was genuinely glad to see him. It was then that the Slytherin realized something important – she was someone that people would tell secrets to and not even realize it. Such individuals could be useful, but also incredibly dangerous. Moreover, she did not seem the least bit daunted by his surly demeanor and acted as though he were merely another student. Perhaps nearly getting killed together can have that effect upon relationships.

"Let me introduce you to my parents." The two adults had finally made it up the stairs.

"Mum, dad, this is Bruce." The young Slytherin shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Granger, though they were clearly a bit unsettled by their surroundings.

"So, you're Bruce Wayne. I have to say, it's not every day we meet someone who can keep up with our little girl." Bruce could tell that the man was doing his best to be polite.

"Mr. Granger, Mrs. Granger, this is Alfred." The boy's guardian walked over and shook hands with the two dentists.

"The pleasure is all mine. I take it you're a bit intimidated by all this as well." Alfred had gotten right to the point, obviously trying to make the Grangers feel better.

"Is it that obvious?" Mr. Granger said hesitantly.

"Don't worry, I was overwhelmed as well. Finding out that you're raising a wizard can have that effect." With that, the Gryffindor's parents looked slightly more relaxed, if still a bit uneasy. Hermione began chatting to Bruce about the upcoming year while the Slytherin kept an eye on the crowd, expecting to see more familiar faces. Unsurprisingly, his schoolmate was doing the same. It occurred to Bruce that neither Hermione nor her parents had said anything about his financial status. While he doubted that his fellow second-year had yet to connect him with the "Prince of Gotham" sobriquet, she had apparently not informed her parents of this. It was possible that she had merely asked her parents not to mention it, but their body language did not display any of the usual signs of discomfort that appear when around a child worth more money than the combined total of what they could make in their lives.

Alfred, meanwhile, was keeping the parents occupied with simple conversation, thus continuing his efforts to get them more at ease with their magical surroundings. After a few minutes, Bruce spotted a tall shape that could only be the gamekeeper, Hagrid, and somewhat unsurprisingly, next to him was a thin boy with a scar on his forehead. Something must have happened for Potter to not be with the Weasleys. Though he did not know much about the rest of the family, it seemed odd that Ron would not be at his friend's side if they were sleeping under the same roof.

"Harry! Harry, over here!"

Hermione had obviously spotted him as well. She raced down the stairs to meet him, while Bruce remained at the top, waiting. Soon after, the boy saw a group of red-heads hurry over to the two Gryffindors. Considering the hair, and the fact that Ron was among them, they could only be the Weasleys. Upon a closer look, he did indeed recognize the infamous prankster duo of Fred and George. Judging from the way the man who could only be Mr. Weasley was acting, what happened to separate Potter from them mush have occurred only a short time ago. Relatively quickly, they were all up the steps and Bruce caught the tail end of a comment from the presumed Mr. Weasley.

"…..a match for Lucius Malfoy?" Bruce could not help but raise an eyebrow to that, but he was immediately distracated by a greeting from Potter.

"Hello, Bruce. I'm a bit surprised to see you here. The way Ron tells it, the earth may as well have swallowed you whole."

"Yeah, Bruce," Weasley cut in. "You could have at least written once. I was starting to think you had turned into another stuck-up Slytherin." Bruce decided to ignore Weasley's friendly jabs. It was then he realized that the twins were eyeing him suspiciously, which in their case meant that the two were planning on subjecting him to some immature prank.

"So, you're the Slytherin ickle Ronniekins has told us about." Fred said.

"That I am."

"You should consider yourself lucky – according to Ron, you're the only Slytherin we shouldn't consider a target." George said.

"I'll have to thank him for that."

"Fred, George, really. He's their friend and you shouldn't be harassing him." Mrs. Weasley had decided to step in.

"We're not harassing him, mum." Fred replied.

"Yeah, we're just planning on having a little fun with him, that's all." There was a dangerous grin on George's face as he finished the sentence.

Mr. Weasley, meanwhile, had discovered Alfred and the Grangers.

"Why, you're muggles! That's fascinating! We should have a drink together. You can tell me some things I've always been curious about. Tell me, when you're fixing a car, do you-"

"Arthur!" Mr. Weasley was interrupted by his wife's scolding. He immediately looked flustered and gave an embarrassed "sorry". It was then that Alfred came to Mrs. Weasley's attention.

"Why, Alfred Pennyworth! So nice to see you here."

"Molly. Good to see you, as well. I take it this is the rabble you were referring to last year at the station?"

"Oh, that's them alright. Always trying their dear old mum's nerves. I must thank you for that biscuit recipe you gave me, they were excellent."

"It's one of my personal favorites. I've found that children are especially fond of them."

"Oh, little Ginny couldn't get enough of them. She's starting Hogwarts this year, you know."

"Really? Well," he looked down at the blushing little girl. " I wish you the best of luck."

Bruce, meanwhile, was not quite sure what to make of the sight before him and, judging by his expression, neither did Ron.

"You….know each other?" Bruce finally asked.

"I had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Weasley shortly after your train departed for Hogwarts last year." For once in his life, Bruce was at a loss.

"Well, we had best be on our way." With that, Mrs. Weasley motioned for the rest to follow.

"Meet you back here." Ron said as he and Harry departed with the rest of the Weasleys.

After Alfred and the Grangers obtained some wizard money they returned to the entrance, where the two groups once again reconvened. After some discussion, they all separated off into smaller assemblages. Mr. Weasley practically dragged the Grangers and Alfred off to the Leaky Cauldron while Bruce and the Gryffindor trio decided to wander the streets of Diagon Alley. Harry bought them all some ice cream, despite Bruce's insistence that he did not want any. Over at Quality Quidditch Supplies, Ron and Harry practically drooled over the items they saw on display, but Hermione and Bruce dragged them away to buy ink and parchment next door. After that, Bruce led the rest to a newsstand where he ordered a subscription to the Daily Prophet, despite the fact that the two male Gryffindors could not see a reason why. The next destination was the joke shop, where they ran into Fred, George and another Gryffindor named Lee Jordan, who was quite surprised to see a Slytherin in the company of the three star Gryffindors. Harry finally got around to filling Bruce about the wrong turn down Knockturn Alley, and what he saw the Malfoys up to.

"Hmm." It was the extent of Bruce's reply to the information.

"That's it? 'Hmm?'" Ron was slightly exasperated. "Are you even capable of displaying actual emotion?"

"Sometimes." Harry and Hermione snickered at Bruce's one-word response.

After an hour, the second-years made their way to Flourish and Blotts, where they found a large sign proclaiming that Gilderoy Lockhart would be signing copies of his autobiography. Hermione could barely contain her excitement.

"He's written almost the entire booklist!"

Bruce thought the giddiness in her voice was dangerously similar to the type emitted by Veronica Vreeland at her birthday party.

The four children managed to get inside, where they found an incredibly long line of people looking to get Lockhart's autograph. After acquiring the sole non-Lockhart book on the list, they made their way up the line, where they found the Weasleys, the Grangers, and Alfred waiting. To most people, the butler appeared perfectly normal, but Bruce could tell that the man was a bit exasperated. No doubt Mr. Weasley had barraged him with questions regarding the minutiae of muggle life.

Lockhart himself soon became visible, obviously doing his best to look good in front of the cameras. Bruce was not quite sure what to make of him, and was mulling over the amount of publicity he was receiving when the man himself began to speak.

"It can't be Harry Potter?" The wizard dived forward and grabbed Harry's arm, dragging him upfront. Bruce thought the Gryffindor looked as if he had just been told to wear red in front of a herd of rampaging bulls. The boy was obviously trying to get away, but Lockhart clamped an arm around him.

"When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography – which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge – he had no idea that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, _Magical Me_. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

The crowd practically exploded with cheering and clapping while Bruce felt as if he might be ill. Whatever magical ability the man may or may not have, he was clearly a glory hound and was not afraid to take advantage of others. The Slytherin was starting to ponder whether or not it might have been better to have a teacher that was simply trying to kill you when he heard a familiar, and loathed, voice.

"Bet you loved that, didn't you Potter?"

It was Draco Malfoy, arrogant as usual. The blonde Slytherin got into another sniping match with Harry and Ron. Bruce was about to step in and put an end to it when he noticed another figure. He was tall and featured the same pale, pointed face as Draco. It could only be the boy's father, the infamous and influential Lucius Malfoy. Mr. Weasley went livid at the sight of him.

"Well, well, well – Arthur Weasley."

"Lucius."

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear. All those raid…. I hope they're paying you overtime?" Malfoy put his hand into Ginny Weasley's cauldron and took out a battered copy of a book.  
"Obviously not. Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

"Perhaps Mr. Weasley has a different view of what constitutes a disgrace." Alfred had decided to step. Malfoy took a step back.

"It seems he does, considering the company he keeps." Alfred and Lucius were now looking directly at each other.

"Well, if nothing else, Mr. Weasley can take comfort in the fact that he does not have to pay others to tolerate his presences, as I'm sure you've had experience with?" The look on Malfoy's face was one of murder.

"I would not expect a mere muggle like you to understand-" Alfred cut him off.

"I understand quite well that there are those who are so miserable that their only happiness is in making others around them just as miserable." After that last statement, Malfoy turned and looked to leave in an indignant manner when Alfred spoke once more.

"I believe you have forgotten to return the textbook to young Ms. Weasley." Malfoy stopped and for a second Bruce thought he saw the man open the book before turning around and placing it in Ginny's cauldron.

"Here is your book, girl. It's obviously the best your father can give you." With that, he stormed out, Draco following close behind. He nearly ran right into Hagrid as the gamekeeper walked in the store. Seeing the expressions on the faces of all assembled, Hagrid decided to speak.

"Did somethin' happen that I've missed?"

Bruce was not entirely sure who started talking first, but soon the three Weasley boys plus Harry started bombarding the man with details about Alfred's duel with Lucius Malfoy. Mr. Weasley, meanwhile, had turned to the butler and was either apologizing or congratulating him, Bruce could not be sure which. It may have been a bit of both, considering that he overheard Mrs. Weasley's scolding tone. It was then Bruce noticed that George Weasley had just told him that Alfred was a "great bloke", an assessment he was inclined to agree with.

Thus, it was a slightly elated group that exited Flourish and Blotts and made its way to the Leaky Cauldron. The Weasleys and Harry said their goodbyes, though Mr. Weasley was still slightly desperate to ask more questions regarding muggle minutiae. After that, Bruce said goodbye to Hermione and he and Alfred made their way to the parked car.

"You shouldn't have been so easy on him." The boy said.

"Don't be silly, Master Bruce. It would be rude to insult someone in public."

* * *

Notes:

And here's part two of this sorry excuse for a sequel. After the non-magical focus of the previous chapter, I thought it best to get Bruce back into the wizarding world fairly quickly, and a meeting with Harry, Ron and Hermione in Diagon Alley seemed the best way to do it.

I hope everyone enjoyed Alfred's verbal smackdown of Lucius Malfoy. I wanted to give the butler something in the spotlight, since I he really does not play a large part in the body of the stories I have planned. For some reason, I just can't find a place for him, and it's really frustrating, because I love Alfred. He bounces off of everyone so well.


	3. The Ride Back

Bruce Wayne and the Chamber of Secrets

Chapter Three: The Ride Back

After the incident in Diagon Alley, Bruce's life returned to a more quiet state as he awaited the start of term and his return to King's Cross station, where he would once again board the train to Hogwarts. There was no further contact from Potter, Granger or Weasley, a fact for which Bruce was thankful. He had no desire to answer any of the annoying questions they were sure to ask, such as "how've you been" or "what do you think about X Quidditch team". Such social niceties did not concern the Slytherin in the least bit.

To keep himself busy, he read the books assigned by Gilderoy Lockhart, and found himself more and more discouraged by each one he read. It was apparent that they had been written in a style designed to place more of a focus on the man's appearance and personality rather than any practical information regarding ways to fend off the Dart Arts. The prose was structured so that it routinely went off on digressions that had more to do with Lockhart's personal interests and habits than anything else. It was especially infuriating that at the beginning of each chapter was a picture of the man in an absurdly heroic pose. As such, Bruce was beginning to doubt that the man accomplished so much as half of what he claimed, and instead was co-opting the work of others in order to gain renown. The main selling point of the books seemed to be the lurid sensationalism that marked the accounts of Lockhart's various battles with dark creatures.

It was due to this that Bruce's anticipation for the coming term at Hogwarts was rather less than it had been the year before. Still, returning to the school held an appeal that not even a lackluster Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher could quell. So, when the fateful day finally arrived, Bruce was once again eager to embark. He and Alfred had packed the luggage and were off to King's Cross. The drive itself was uneventful, and the butler allowed the boy the solitude of his own thoughts, something the old Englishman knew his charge enjoyed. After arriving at the station, they unloaded the luggage, just as the two did last year, and made their way through the crowd to platform 9 ¾ .

Bruce checked his watch – it was 10:35. They had gotten there early enough for him to find a place on the train where he could be left alone, barring any unforeseen circumstances. Quickly checking to make sure that no one was paying him any attention, Bruce rushed into the dividing barrier between platforms 9 and 10, and promptly found himself once again looking at the familiar form of the Hogwarts Express.

"You can put your fears to rest, Master Bruce – they haven't left without you," Alfred said.

The boy decided to ignore his butler's well-meaning jibe and moved to put his luggage on the train. Alfred, meanwhile, was looking around expectantly. Bruce gave him a quizzical look.

"I was expecting to see Molly here. She had wanted me to give her a brownie recipe."

"They're probably just late, " Bruce replied. "Getting a family as large and rambunctious as theirs ready would delay even you."

With that, the two placed the last of the luggage on the Express. Alfred laid a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Now, Master Bruce, I must ask that you avoid placing yourself in any life-threatening situations."

"Don't worry Alfred, I'll be fine."

"And do try to enjoy yourself. Remember – you're only young once."

"I'm aware of that, Alfred."

The butler, however, was not convinced that his young charge was entirely listening. Bruce saw the skeptical expression on the man's face and gave a little smile.

"Yes, well….. you had best be on your way, then," Alfred said.

Bruce turned and boarded the train, leaving his guardian standing there, pondering the strange turn the boy's life had taken. It seemed as though it were only yesterday that he was watching him take his first steps, and now the last Wayne was again leaving to learn how to perform magic. Actual magic. It still did not seem entirely real and Alfred could not think that it ever would, despite the assurances he had given the Grangers.

Letting out a small sigh, the Englishman start to walk away from the train, albeit somewhat slowly. Arriving at the barrier, he was nearly run over by Percy Weasley, followed by his younger brothers Fred and George. Then came Mrs. Weasley, holding her daughter Ginny's hand and looking more than a bit distraught. Alfred then expected to see her son Ron accompanied by his friend Harry emerge from the entrance next, but the two did not materialize. The Englishman found this somewhat unexpected and, judging from the expression on her face, so did Molly. There was a few seconds of confusion, followed by Arthur Weasley tapping the now-solidified barrier with his wand and spouting some magical phrases.

"Molly, is something wrong?" Alfred asked.

"Oh, Mr. Pennyworth, something's happened to the barrier! Poor Ronald and Harry are trapped on the other side!"

* * *

Of course, Bruce was not aware that any of this was occurring. In fact, he was engrossed in another reading of _Hogwarts: A History_, as he felt the need to once again peruse its contents in an attempt to refresh his memory in regards to the school's minutiae. This was so pre-occupying that he barely registered the train pulling out of the station. He looked at his watch – it was ten minutes after eleven. For some reason, it struck him as odd that the Express would leave ten minutes late. The Slytherin was just about to leave his car and perform a cursory inspection when the door opened and none other than a somewhat frazzled–looking Hermione Granger stepped in and sat down on the seat opposite him. 

"You won't believe what happened – the barrier closed and left Ron and Harry trapped outside!" The worry was evident on her face.

"I assume they'll find another means of transportation," Bruce responded, in his usual monotone.

"They will if Mrs. Weasley has anything to say about it. According to Fred and George, she was ready to hex the engineer if he tried to leave without them."

"She didn't, I take it?" Hermione shook her head.

"No, but to hear those two tell the story, she came very close. I just hope that Harry and Ron are alright. I can't think of much worse than missing the train to Hogwarts."

Bruce smiled inwardly at her last remark – to Hermione Granger, there were few things in this world worse than the prospect of academic failure. It was quite amusing on some occasions, especially when someone managed to beat her at schoolwork. Of course, he was the only person he knew of to be capable in that regard, so perhaps there was a bit of self-satisfaction creeping in. The look on her face when he scored higher than she did in Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts at the end of term last year was something he would never forget. It was then that Bruce noticed that the Gryffindor was placing her things in the luggage rack above. After this, she sat back down on the bench opposite his and pulled out a copy of _Magical Me_, opened it, and began to peruse its contents. Bruce just stared at her for a few minutes before he could contain himself no longer.

"Why are you here?" he asked. She looked up from her book.

"What?"

"Why aren't you with the other Gryffindors?" Bruce asked, growing a bit impatient.

"I wanted to sit with a friend," Hermione answered. She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and in such a casual tone of voice. Bruce just shook his head.

The two remained in silence for a lone while, though Bruce could not help but notice that every so often Hermione would make some scribblings in the book, as though she were noting some very important parts. How anything in that waste of paper could rank as important was beyond Bruce's ability to comprehend, but he said nothing. Unable to concentrate on _Hogwarts: A History_, he looked out the window at the landscape that rushed by them as the train rolled along on its course. After only a few minutes, something caught his attention from the corner of his eye – was that a flying Ford Anglia? What could possibly…..

Wait, didn't Alfred mention that Mr. Weasley had pestered him with questions about how to repair a Ford Anglia? Bruce smiled. Apparently, Potter and Weasley had indeed found a way to Hogwarts. The Slytherin was about to bring this sudden occurrence to his companion's attention when he noticed the little hearts that dotter her copy of _Magical Me_.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said.

"What?" Hermione asked, snapping back to reality. Bruce motioned to the book.

"You can't honestly think that man intelligent," Bruce said in a slightly disgusted tone. Hermione scowled.

"He's a great wizard with many talents," she responded.

"He's a glory hound," Bruce shot back.

"Dumbledore wouldn't have hired him if he wasn't capable of doing the job."

Bruce grunted his disapproval, but knew that she had him – for now. It was then that the door to their car opened and Ginny Weasley walked in, a small book in her hand.

"Um, Hermione? My quill broke and I…" Hermione immediately began rummaging through her bag. Bruce beat her to it.

"Here," he said and handed the red-head a spare quill, one of many which he kept. She smiled and placed it in what he now recognized as a diary.

"Thanks. I would have asked Fred and George, but they've been teasing me about this diary ever since I got it and Percy has forgotten I exist."

"Oh, I'm sure he's not _that_ bad, just a little pre-occupied. Being a prefect is incredibly important," Hermione said.

"You don't know Percy – he's always been more than a little stuck-up. He could stand to learn a bit from Fred and George about lightening up. You should have seen the look on his face when he found out what they did to his prefect badge after he first started wearing it around the house." A smile crossed Ginny's face as she finished speaking and she looked at Bruce, as if seeing him for the first time.

"You're Bruce Wayne, aren't you?" she asked, and Bruce nodded his head. "Ron told me about you. What's it like in Slytherin? Is it really like they say? Does everyone really know dark curses?"

"Ginny, that's really not something to ask someone you've just met," Hermione said.

"I'm just curious, that's all," Ginny responded.

Bruce, meanwhile, was pondering a response that would satisfy the girl's curiosity, but also get her to stop talking to him. Intimidation tactics were out of the question – while fine for the likes of Malfoy, it probably would not be a good idea to reduce an eleven year old girl to tears, despite the fact that it would resolve things quickly. Finally, he spoke:

"The average Slytherin is no more capable than most students," he said.

"But, don't a lot of dark wizards come from Slytherin?" Ginny asked. Bruce nodded.

"Corruption does pervade the house," he said. Ginny looked as though she wanted to ask more, but the expression on Bruce's face and the tone of his voice suggested that he was getting impatient.

"Well, thanks for the quill," she said and left the car.

Hermione looked at her companion, trying to think of something to say. She considered Bruce her friend, despite the fact that he came from Slytherin. For the first time, she truly realized how awkward this friendship could be. Yes, she had a bit of a heated discussion with Ron when they found out that Bruce had discovered their activities concerning the Sorcerer's Stone, but that had died down quickly, and all three had reconciled themselves to their new friend's situation.

"Don't," Bruce said.

"What?" she asked.

"Worry about it," he responded, as if reading her thoughts.

For a moment, it looked as if the Gryffindor was going to heed his advice. The moment then passed.

"You do know that none of us think of you as a dark wizard, despite the fact that you're in Slytherin? I know that we were all a little suspicious at first, but after what happened with Quirrell…."

Bruce merely nodded. Another long moment passed before Hermione spoke again. This time, there was clear hesitancy in her voice.

"What is it like in Slytherin?" she asked. Bruce looked away and for a moment, Hermione thought that she had offended him. They had never actually broached the topic until now. She privately supposed that it was a way of pretending that it did not exist. Somehow, neither she nor Harry nor Ron really wanted to confront the ugly truth that the boy who risked his life to help them shared a dormitory with people like Draco Malfoy. It just seemed….wrong, somehow. Like the Sorting Hat had made some kind of mistake.

"It's corrupt, as I said," Bruce's voice was neutral, as though he were delivering a weather report. Hermione had the urge to ask for more detail, but then decided not to. It was clear that the matter was not something to be discussed. At least, not now.

The rest of the train ride passed without incident, although Bruce still had to suppress the desire to try and talks some sense into Hermione regarding her little "crush". After rolling into the station at Hogwarts, the two exited the train together and followed the herd of students to a mud track filled with carriages. Attached to those carriages were skeletal beasts that Bruce recognized as Thestrals. The Slytherin could not help but wonder how many of his fellow students could see the beasts, and under what circumstances that they had viewed death. Unbidden, the sight of his parent's bodies, lying bloody and lifeless on the cold, unforgiving pavement came to his mind's eye. He banished it quickly, knowing that now was not the time to dwell on such matters. The two students then climbed into a carriage.

Neville Longbottom, looking for a place of his own to sit, headed over when he saw Hermione, thinking that she would be kind enough to allow him a place. Once he saw Bruce, however, the Gryffindor decided on another place of refuge. He had not forgotten the dangerous look in the Slytherin's eyes when he had threatened to turn Neville into a toad and present him to Snape for display.

As such, Hermione and Bruce had the carriage to themselves for the last leg of the trip to Hogwarts. The two spoke of the coming year, and their hopes concerning it. Though, truth be told, the Gryffindor carried most of the conversation while Bruce merely nodded in the affirmative or negative and spoke the odd word on occasion. Hermione, of course, became extremely worried when she did not catch sight of either Ron or Harry, but Bruce did say some words of comfort. Nevertheless, she still continued to anxiously look about even as they exited the carriage and entered into the Great Hall. Somewhat reluctantly, they separated and headed to their respective house tables. Bruce was just about to sit down when he heard a familiar, loathed voice.

"So you actually had the guts to show up," Draco Malfoy sneered, flanked as usual by Crabbe and Goyle. Bruce briefly wondered if the two ever did anything without Malfoy's supervision.

"Don't think you'll have an easy year, Wayne. Slytherin doesn't tolerate traitors."

Bruce could hardly contain his indifference at the thought of being dislike by his housemates. Especially considering the lengths he went to last year to actively discourage anyone from speaking to him. He was considering a response when Malfoy left to find a place at the table, thus allowing Bruce to finally sit down. Headmaster Albus Dumbledore then stood up from his place at the teacher's table to give his usual beginning of the year speech.

"Welcome one and all to another year at Hogwarts," the old man began. "As Headmaster I am expected to say a few words as a way of bringing in the new school year. Therefore – lemon drop, macramé, codswallop."

Watching him sit down, Bruce once again had to muse over the fact that Dumbledore was either off his rocker or one of the most brilliant men he would ever meet. As was the situation last year, the Slytherin felt that the truth was closer to the latter rather than the former. While he started to put food on his plate, Professor McGonagall began to call out the names of first years to be sorted. After calling out "Creevey, Colin" who was sorted into Gryffindor, Bruce started glancing around in the hopes of seeing Harry and Ron. Despite himself, he was starting to grow a bit worried in regards to their whereabouts. The boy kept telling himself that there was simply no way that Dumbledore would allow Harry to miss attending Hogwarts, but he kept a lookout nonetheless. A quick view of the Gryffindor table revealed that Hermione was doing the same.

It was then that he noticed that Severus Snape – the ever irritable potions master – was not at his usual spot next to Dumbledore. Something in the back of his mind told Bruce that this was somehow connected to the missing Gryffindor duo, he just was not sure how. Keeping an eye out, the Slytherin was soon greeted by a welcome sight – a somewhat raggedy Harry and Ron stumbled into view at the other end of the hall. The two spoke to each other briefly, and looked relieved to be there. However, their reverie was cut short when Snape materialized behind them. For a moment, Bruce wondered if he should be worried, but then reminded himself that whatever had happened, Dumbledore would likely get them off, so long as it was not _too_ illegal. Returning to his meal, Bruce listened as McGonagall continued to call names, the most recent being "Lovegood, Luna", a Ravenclaw.

After the last name was called (Ginny Weasley, a Gryffindor like the rest of her family) Dumbledore rose from his chair as expected and exited the hall. There was no doubt in Bruce's mind that he was off to rein in his over-zealous potions master. The food provided was decent enough, if not quite up to Alfred's standards. The only real slight against the dining experience was that Lockhart's voice traveled far enough that Bruce could not help but hear the occasional self-aggrandizing remark.

Soon enough, the meal came to an end and the prefects once again led the students to their respective dormitories. The journey down the corridors to the Slytherin dormitory was much the same as last year, different only in that this time Bruce knew where he was going. The prefect spoke the password – pure-blood – and the students wandered in. Things were exactly as the students left it at the end of last year, with the fireplace at the far corner and cold, marble floor. After making a cursory sweep of the area – as he did last year and planned to do next year – Bruce made his way to the sleeping area for second years.

Carefully choosing a bed at the corner on the left side of the door, the one at the end of the row (as a way of minimizing the probability of an ambush) Bruce then began to inspect the hardwood floors. They had been installed shortly after the beginning of his first year, when Malfoy complained about the cold stone floor when he got up in the morning. The pure-blood contacted his parents, who promptly made the arrangements to "better ensure the comfort of those dwelling in the Slytherin dormitory" as the official line went. Just the thought of it made Bruce want to gag. Muttering a few choice magical words, the boy cast a spell which ensured that anyone approaching his bed would cause the floorboards to creak just loudly enough to wake him. It never hurt to be prepared.

* * *

Notes: 

And here is Chapter Three, arriving after a bit of a delay. I must apologize - there were several elements inthis chapter and ones upcoming that I have been wrestling with, which in turn slows the writing process. This installment came off rather light in terms of revision when compared to what lies ahead. There are some bits that I'm slightly reluctant to introduce, for fear that it will blow up in my face. I'll just have to post it and gauge the reaction.


	4. Lessons

Bruce Wayne and the Chamber of Secrets

Chapter Four: Lessons

As he expected, Bruce awoke in the middle of the night to the sounds of those with ill-intent on their minds. The squeak he fashioned earlier provided him with the necessary warning, causing the boy to bolt upright in his bed, with his wand at the ready. Always expecting trouble, he made a point to make sure that it was always within reach should he immediately need it upon awakening. In this case, it was placed under his pillow shortly before drifting off to sleep.

The precautions paid off, and he cast a stunning spell on his assailants before he had the chance to even get a good look at them. Allowing his vision to come into focus, Bruce was unsurprised to see the prone forms of Crabbe and Goyle lying next to his bed, completely unconscious. The Slytherin then turned to look at Malfoy, who was standing a few feet away from the edge of the bed, looking as though he were a deer that had been caught in the headlights of a car.

"Go back to bed, Malfoy," Bruce said in a caustic tone.

"Don't think you can get any rest this year, Wayne. You can't always wake up in time," Malfoy sneered.

"Neither can you," Bruce replied in his low tone of voice.

He then lit the end of his wand, as a way of reminding the pure-blood of the threat from last year. Malfoy looked indignant and ready to press the issue, but instead he merely skulked off to his bed. The fact that his two cronies were still lying unconscious in the middle of the room either escaped his attention or did not cause him any concern. Bruce had a feeling that the latter was the likeliest possibility. He then glanced at the watch he kept in the drawer next to his bed – it read 2:30, which informed Bruce of two things. The first was that he could still get a couple hours of sleep before having to get up for tomorrow morning's classes, which was something to be thankful for.

The second had larger implications – while electronics such as radios and digital watches were useless on Hogwarts grounds due to the concentrated magic in the air, simple mechanics, such as the wind-up watch that Alfred had given him, functioned perfectly. It was an important fact to note, especially since he brought the timepiece to Hogwarts for the express purpose of testing whether or not it would function. Feeling satisfied with this little discovery, he reset the watch to continue ticking for another day. Lying back on his pillow, he briefly wondered if certain chemical reactions could be produced without undue interference from the same magically charged atmosphere that rendered most technology useless. It was something that he would have to investigate.

* * *

Nobody spoke to him that morning, though he could tell from the quick glances others were giving him that the inhabitants of the dormitory had understood the meaning behind finding Crabbe and Goyle's still-unconscious bodies fairly close to Bruce's bed. When he sat down at the house table for breakfast, the rest of the student body gave him a fairly wide berth, which was just to the boy's liking. However, he was not sure whether this was because they felt intimidated, or they merely did not want to get caught in the crossfire of Malfoy's eventual retaliatory strike. No matter. There was a fluttering overhead, and an owl dropped a copy of the Daily Prophet next to him. 

On the front page was a picture of the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, dedicating some building. Apparently, it had been a slow news day, but Bruce felt that it was always prudent to be informed about _everything_ that happened in the magical world, no matter how tedious. He had just finished perusing the contents of the front page while munching on his breakfast when he heard it. It had to be one of the loudest things to ever come from a single source, which was a piece of mail, no less.

" – STEALING OUR CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU,…"

Apparently, Mrs. Weasley had been informed of her son's little sojourn using the family's Ford Anglia. Checking his copy of the Daily Prophet again, on the second page was indeed an article on a flying car that mystified several memebers of the non-magical community when they saw it. Still, it was of no real importance – Weasley and Potter were still enrolled at the school, and Gryffindor had not been penalized by the loss of house points for the incident, so Bruce felt there was nothing to be overly concerned about. Although, there was the interesting fact that Ron's mother was capable of producing noise that rivaled the fury of the explosion produced at the end of term feast last year, when Gryffindor won the house cup.

It was then that Snape began prowling down the table, handing out the course schedules and looking as if he had would rather be doing anything else. Looking the parchment over, saw that he had Transfiguration first, which prompted him to wonder of Professor McGonagall had lost some sort of wager that would require her to teach Slytherins for her first class on the first day back from break. Grabbing his things, Bruce set off for her classroom.

As usual, he was the first to arrive, which allowed for the opportunity to pick a seat at his leisure. It would be near the back, naturally, and would never put him in the position of having his back to a door. As last night proved, it never hurt to have a dash of paranoia. When the rest of the Slytherins filed in, they once again left Bruce alone, as no one sat near him. Apparently, his reputation as being difficult to deal with in class had not been forgotten over the summer, and had likely been amplified by the current situation. Soon, McGonagall took her place at the head of the classroom.

"Today we shall begin learning the standard spells for transfiguring insects. Please pay attention as I demonstrate…"

Bruce watched with his usual amount of interest as the Professor specified instructions for transforming beetles into buttons. McGonagall then set the class to work, though there was a decided lack of enthusiasm from the students. There were a few angry mutterings, only from the wealthy pure-bloods, naturally, about "unfair treatment" and an "unfair workload". Such comments were fairly common, and no one ever really gave them a second thought – as head of Gryffindor house, McGonagall ranked as probably the single most disliked teacher among the pure-blooded elite, who convinced themselves that she was out to get every last one of them. Such ideas, of course, blatantly ignored the fact that Snape routinely handed out homework assignments that were twice as hard as anything McGonagall would ever consider.

The actual spellwork came easily for Bruce, though that was hardly surprising, considering that he had spent plenty of time beforehand in preparation. His fellow Slytherins, for their part, acquitted themselves admirably in the appointed task, with a few notable exceptions. Somehow, Crabbe and Goyle managed to turn a few of their buttons into wasps, which promptly stung them and a couple other students unlucky enough to be situated close by. One of the victims, a girl named Sersi Lavium, had an allergic reaction to the sting, and needed to be taken to Madam Pomfrey. When McGonagall left the classroom to take Ms. Lavium to the hospital wing, Malfoy launched into a spiel about the constant harassment they received from the non-Slytherin members of the staff, and the dangerous situations they were all put in as a result. Bruce considered sending a few hexes his way, but then decided that Malfoy was not worth the effort.

Shortly before end of class, while the rest of the students were busy comparing notes about the various measures of success they achieved in regards to their assignment, Professor McGonagall stopped next to Bruce's desk and spoke to him.

"I must commend you on some excellent work, Mr. Wayne. It is always heartening to see students display talent and a drive to perform well."

"Thank you, Professor." What was she getting at?

"I expect that you remember that I have no prejudice against giving points to Slytherin."

"I do, Professor."

She nodded and returned to the head of the classroom, just in time to dismiss class. Bruce was left feeling slightly bewildered, which was troubling to someone who always wanted a clear grasp of any situation. Was she telling him that she was watching him? Was she suspicious of his friendship with the three Gryffindors? Did she think that he had some ulterior motive? Or was she giving him a blessing of sorts, as a way of reaching out to a member of a house with an incredibly nefarious reputation? These questions occupied his mind all through his next class, as Flitwick lectured on about the Charms lesson. The Slytherin had to snap himself back to reality at points, as his mind increasingly wandered down possible avenues of actions and reactions to any number of situations pertaining to his status among the Gryffindors in general.

All too soon, it was lunchtime and Bruce made his way down to the great hall, where he had promised Hermione that he would meet her and the others so that the four of them would share a meal for once. He was reluctant, but a promise was a promise, though the fact that she had managed to extract one from him slightly worried the boy. There were an obligatory number of stares from various members of Gryffindor as the Slytherin made his way to the table, and for a brief second it appeared as if one or two might actually challenge his presence there, but then Hermione and Harry called out to him, which sent the necessary message to everyone in earshot. Sitting down between Ron and Hermione, Bruce spoke.

"I'm surprised I was allowed to sit here."

"Don't worry about it," Ron said as he reached for a roll. "Everyone here knows you risked your life for us last year. No one's going to cause any trouble."

Just as he finished speaking, a few sparks spurted out from the end of his wand, turning a nearby biscuit into a beetle. Bruce then noticed that the wand was patched together quite crudely with spell-o-tape and raised an eyebrow.

"He broke it when we crashed into the Whomping Willow," Harry explained.

"I'm not surprised. Why did you miss the train?"

"I don't know. Ron and I were heading for the barrier when it was suddenly blocked, leaving us trapped outside."

"Worse," Ron cut in, "it was when just as the train was set to leave. Taking the car looked like the only way we could get to Hogwarts."

"I see," Bruce said. "And it never occurred to you that your parents would not just leave you in such a situation?"

"Don't _you_ start, too. We already got an earful from Hermione." Ron then heightened his voice in an attempt to mimic his friend.

"Of all the _reckless _and _irresponsible_…"

Harry, meanwhile, had noticed that the subject of Ron's impression was oddly silent.

"That's your cue, Hermione," the boy with the scar said.

"Hmm?"

"You know, to back up what Bruce said about how stupid we were to take the car?"

At that moment, Ron grabbed the course schedule from Hermione's fingers.

"Why do you have Lockhart's classes outlined with little hearts?"

Hermione promptly snatched it back from him and scowled.

"Hey, why don't we introduce Bruce to Hagrid?" she said.

"I met him when he came to visit Harry in the hospital wing at the end of last year," Bruce responded. "Moreover, you're changing the subject."

"Hermione, what do you see in him?" Ron asked, deciding to run with the ball.

"He's a very capable wizard who has shown great talent."

"He's a glory hound who probably exaggerated if not outright invented his accounts," Bruce shot back.

"See, Hermione? Even _he's_ telling you the guy is no good," Ron said in a triumphant tone.

"And just what does _that_ mean?" Hermione retorted. The Weasley looked a little off-put.

"I'm just saying that –" Bruce cut him off.

"You're changing the subject again, Hermione." The girl scowled at him, but the Slytherin only smirked in response.

The three Gryffindors had decided to spend a little time outside after they finished eating and Bruce took that opportunity to detach from the group, citing errands he had to run. In truth, he merely wanted some time to himself in the library, where he could prepare for the afternoon classes. Despite himself, he found that the lunch with the trio was actually a pleasant experience. He smiled while pondering Alfred's many possible remarks to such an admission.

* * *

After lunch was Herbology with the Ravenclaws. There was not a great deal of room in the greenhouse, which forced Bruce to sit next to a few of his classmates, a situation that did not seem to please anyone. He had not been the first to arrive, as was his habit, but still managed to grab one of the better pairs of earmuffs that were set out for the students. Sitting next to him on his left was a dark-haired boy named Theodore Nott, who held a bit of sway in Slytherin, though not as much as Draco Malfoy. On his right was Robert Anthony, one of the less noticeable members of Slytherin. Bruce suspected that he was a half-blood, or perhaps even a muggleborn, which would explain the low social standing. It was not due to financial straits – the boy's clothing showed no sign of being worn, and the cut of the cloth indicated that it was designed for someone with a bit of money.

Meanwhile, Professor Sprout had taken her place at the center of the greenhouse, standing behind a bench. Clearing her throat, she addressed the assembled students.

"Today, we will be repotting Mandrakes. Now, who here knows the properties of Mandrakes?"

A few of the Ravenclaw hands went up, in stark contrast to the Slytherins, with nary a hand up among the lot of them. Bruce knew the answer, but, in accordance with a decision made as he entered Hogwarts, felt no desire to draw attention to himself. After wading through a couple of wrong answers, Sprout called on the first Slytherin hand that went up.

"It's used as an antidote for people who have been transfigured or cursed."

"Very good, Ms. Davis. Five points to Slytherin." The blonde Slytherin girl smiled.

Professor Sprout then went on to describe the characteristics of Mandrakes, after having given the children a clear example of how to plant a baby Mandrake. She then ordered the class to break up into groups of four when they actually potted the plants. Once again, Bruce found that Anthony was next to him, but they were soon joined by Theodore Nott and another student named Blaise Zabini. Watching the two sit down, Bruce could help but have the unsettling feeling that he was being cornered. Almost instinctively, he moved his wand into a position that would make a counterspell easy to perform. Perhaps he was merely being paranoid, but as a pariah among the Slytherins, he could never be too careful. A few minutes passed in silence before Nott finally spoke.

"You've been causing a great deal of commotion," he said. Bruce ignored him. "I can understand your position. You've been placed in a house that's not known for its sympathy to those outside the pure-blooded elite, and that can be a bit daunting. It can make someone react in ways they shouldn't, such as making unnecessary threats."

Was Nott referring to the incident in the Forbidden Forest where Bruce threatened to burn Malfoy's face off? He could not be sure, and it was dangerous to assume anything at this point. The other Slytherin continued speaking.

"Coming from a muggle family, it's understandable that you don't fully comprehend the meaning of your actions, and act in a way that's outside of proper conduct."

"And what is 'proper conduct'?" Bruce replied.

"It's a respect for the way Slytherin is set up," Zabini answered, finally speaking. "This house has a long history behind it, one that is full of tradition. You've been going against those traditions."

"Have I ?" There was a noticeable hostility in Bruce's tone.

At that moment, Professor Sprout called to the class and informed them that they needed to put their earmuffs on. The Mandrakes proved to be something of a hassle, but one that Bruce was able to overcome with a minimum of trouble, even though his Mandrake seemed determined not to be planted. The other three Slytherins around him experienced no real difficulty either, aside from the fact that Zabini came close to dropping his at one point. The only thing notable about the rest of class was that Goyle actually _did_ drop his Mandrake, and when he bent over to pick it up, his earmuffs fell right off of his head, leading to predictable results.

After the lesson was over, and Goyle was carted off to Madam Pomfrey, Malfoy once again took the time to spout off about the "persecution" Slytherins receive from the other houses. This time, Bruce did hex him, which was satisfying, but had another, less pleasing effect.

"That kind of behavior is exactly the kind of thing we're warning you about," Nott said, walking up to Bruce.

"Warning me?"

"Look, we don't want to give you the wrong idea," Zabini said. "The assembled members of Slytherin are perfectly willing to overlook any past complications and welcome you with open arms into the fold."

"Are you now?"

"You should consider yourself lucky. Most people wouldn't get a second chance. If you're smart, you'll take it and learn how to respect the way things are." Nott had a condescending tone to his voice as he spoke.

"I fail to see anything worth respecting," Bruce responded. Nott shook his head.

"Such a shame. You could have joined the winning team. Let's go, Blaise." Nott turned to leave.

"You obviously don't know what you're doing," Zabini said. "You can't just strike out alone. Not in Slytherin. You'll be eaten alive."

"I'll take my chances." Zabini let out a sigh after hearing the response.

"Fine. It's your funeral. Just remember that we gave you a chance to save yourself. You didn't have to ruin your future this way."

"We'll see."

Zabini hurried to catch up with Nott, who was already a bit up the hill. Bruce was about to head back to the castle himself when another voice caught his attention.

"He's right, you know."

Sandy-haired Robert Anthony walked up next to Bruce.

"You don't stand a chance. Not really. The elites are too powerful, and hold too much influence over Slytherin. At some point, they will break you."

Bruce did not respond, instead continuing to walk up to the castle. Anthony continued talking.

"I don't blame you for hating them. They're nothing more than corrupt bigots who only get by on the wealth their families have acquired over the years. Unfortunately, that wealth buys a lot of power and it doesn't matter what they do with it so long as the money keeps rolling in."

Bruce still did not respond.

"In a way, I envy you. Your nerve, at least. If more people had the same amount of it, people like Malfoy and Nott wouldn't have a stranglehold on Slytherin, and the house might actually have a modicum of respect and decency attached to it."

"Obviously, you're not one of those people," Bruce said, finally responding.

"Believe me, I wish there was a way to bring down people like Draco Malfoy, but there isn't. The best the rest of us can do is keep our heads down and act as decently as we can."

"As opposed to fighting back," Bruce said.

"There is no fighting back. If you so much as put a toe out of line, the elites come down and crush you. The only reason you've lasted this long is because you're a muggleborn, and therefore not worthy of their attention. You might have gone all the way if you hadn't helped Potter. _That_ was something they _had_ to acknowledge. A Slytherin helping Gryffindors to fight you-know who? You have to be dealt with now, as a way of saving face. If not, more people will start questioning the power held by the elites, and then they'll have to deal with the fact that every half-blood or muggleborn that makes his way into Slytherin has been treated like dirt."

"You seem quite knowledgeable about this," Bruce said.

"I had to find out the hard way. I'm a half-blood myself. The only reason I'm not completely at the bottom is the fact that my family comes from some very old money. But even that isn't complete protection."

There was a moment of silence before Anthony started to walk away from Bruce. He took several steps before stopping, and his body language suggested that he was wrestling with something.

"If, and I do mean if, you somehow manage to make it without folding to the elites….." He stopped talking and walked off.

For a moment, Bruce considered calling out to him, but decided against it. While he could use a friend, or at the very least, an ally, in Slytherin, it would be too dangerous to approach Anthony. The power structure clearly had him under their thumb. Still, the Wayne heir could not help but wonder what his fellow second year was going to say. Could there be others, waiting for the chance to reclaim their house from a bigoted and almost tyrannical leadership? One thing was certain – Bruce would have to set up a few more security spells around his bed in order to ensure a decent night of sleep.

* * *

Notes: 

Well, after much delay, here is the fourth installment of _Chamber of Secrets_. I can only apologize profusely for the wait, as I know it was getting more than a bit ridiculous. Unfortunately, I found myself sidetracked by a few personal matters, and kept pushing off my responsibilities to this story. Getting called into court didn't exactly help the creative process flow, either.

There was also the extremely frustrating fact that this chapter and the one that follows have gone through about ten different versions altogether (not including one where I got really frustrated and had a time-travelling Ra's Al Ghul and Joker show up and kill everyone as a way of ending the story for good). I'm not really happy with any of them, for any number of reasons. One of which is a character I introduce in this part - an original character named Robert Anthony. I knew that, at some point, I would have to give Bruce someone inside of Slytherin he could interact with on a somewhat friendly basis. Unfortunately, none of the canon characters fit the bill, no matter how hard I tried to place them into the position I need. So, having stuck myself in a corner, I created Robert. You learn a bit about him here, but there's more to him. Don't worry - there's absolutely no chance that he'll do anything extraordinary to completely up-end things. I guess you could call him the Slytherin equivalent of Jim Gordon, to give you an idea of what I need from the character. His personality changed from revision to revision and I still have strong reservations about introducing him into the mix. Oh well.

The name 'Robert Anthony' is a bit of an homage - Bob Kane conceived of the name 'Bruce Wayne' by combining the names of historical figures Robert _Bruce_ and 'Mad' Anthony _Wayne_. As you can see, I took the first names from the two people when christening Robert. Here's hoping he doesn't blow up in my face.


	5. Head Trip

Bruce Wayne and the Chamber of Secrets

Chapter Five: Head Trip

By the next morning, Bruce had largely put the encounter with Robert Anthony in the back of his mind – not forgotten, but not of particular importance at the moment. He would deal with the 'Elite' at the proper time and place of his choosing and not a moment before. More to the point, if Draco Malfoy represented the typical mind arrayed against him, there was not a great and terrible deal to worry about.

Arriving in Snape's dungeon early, the Slytherin was surprised to see Hermione Granger there waiting for him. Bruce had to admit the girl did her best to live up to the Gryffindor model – most students deliberately avoided coming to class until the last possible minute out of fear of the tyrannical potions master. After he took a seat, she made her way over to him.

"Harry, Ron and I were planning to visit Hagrid this Saturday, and I was wondering if you wanted to come. I know you said that you met him at the end of last year, but this will be a chance to really be introduced to him."

Bruce responded with a simple "fine" and expected that to be the end of it. To his surprise (and slight annoyance) she started placing her potions materials next to his and then took a seat at the spot next to him. It was usually vacant due to the fact that no one could stand partnering with the boy during lessons.

"What are you doing?" Bruce asked, a curious expression on his face.

"I'm sitting next to you, obviously," Hermione replied as if this was routine behavior.

"I work best alone."

"Maybe you do, but it never hurts to have someone around to help. Besides, you're going to need a potions partner this year and I doubt that many are lining up for the position." Hermione said.

Bruce hated to admit it, but she had a point. Grunting his acquiescence, he prepared his own materials for the class ahead.

As the room filled with students, the Slytherin took notice of the expected looks of disbelief caused by the resident Gryffindor brain sitting next to a particularly foul – tempered member of her rival house. Naturally, the likes of Malfoy started muttering what were sure to be insults along with general comments about how Bruce was a traitor to his house. The Gryffindors, aside from Harry and Ron, were simply unable to process that one of their own was actually associating with a Slytherin. They thought of it as simply inconceivable. Even Snape raised an eyebrow at this, though it was no doubt more because he had very deliberately warned Bruce off against such behavior near the end of the previous year.

"If you continue this, it is going to have unfortunate ramifications for you," Bruce said.

"Stop being so melodramatic. I'm just sitting next to a friend, that's all," Hermione responded.

It was clear to the boy that she considered the matter settled, so the second year student turned his attention to Snape as the professor began his lesson.

After Potions came his first Defense Against the Dark Arts class. While every ounce of common sense he had told the Slytherin not to expect much, he reasoned that it could not hurt to give Lockhart a chance. There might be a small possibility that the man was not a complete fraud and actually knew something about the subject. Unfortunately, such optimistic thoughts were proven to be blatantly false, as evidenced by the first ten minutes of the lesson.

Bruce was sitting alone, near the back of the class, when Lockhart came in, a smile on his face. The girls in the class swooned.

"Hello everyone! I am, of course, Gilderoy Lockhart, here to teach you all that you shall need to defend yourself against a varied manner of unpleasant entities. None of you need worry – as winner of the Order of Merlin, Third Class, along with being an Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, I have only the best methods to impart to all of you, though you may not look _quite_ as good at it as I do." He then gave another smile, making sure that everyone could see his teeth. Bruce felt ill.

"First, we shall have a test of the material I have given in my books, which I'm sure you have all read." Lockhart began passing out pieces of parchment with questions on them. Glancing at his sheet, Bruce started feeling _violently _ill.

What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?

What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?

"Sir, what does your favorite food have to do with battling the dark forces?" It was Robert Anthony who asked the question.

"Why, my good Mr…."

"Anthony."

"Anthony, if you are to learn about the dark arts, you must first acquaint yourselves with the perfect example of someone who effortlessly fights them. And now….begin!"

Half an hour later, Lockhart took up the tests.

"Tsk, tsk, none of you remembered that my first pet was a dog named Harold, or that I was wearing my favorite suit when I fought my first banshee." He then took his place at the front of the class.

"Now, while I had originally planned on starting off my classes with a practical demonstration of my abilities, the creatures I used proved to be too frightening for my first students. It was merely a trifle to handle, of course, but I don't want to risk needlessly upsetting any of you…"

Bruce fought the urge to call the man a liar. Harry had told him about the pixies and how Hermione had to cast a Freezing Charm to stop them while Lockhart hid behind his desk.

"Therefore, I shall use one of you to help me demonstrate the proper methods required to defend yourself. Mr. Anthony, perhaps you would care to help?"

Robert looked as though someone had asked him to eat live slugs, but he got up anyway. The rest of the class consisted of the boy acting out the part of a banshee while Lockhart 'battled' him.

"No, no, Mr. Anthony, you have to spread your arms out wider! We can't cheat your classmates now, can we?'

Malfoy and his cronies snickered amongst themselves for the entire class. Bruce, meanwhile, was mulling over how difficult it would be to have Lockhart removed.

Eventually, Saturday morning rolled around and Bruce headed down to the great hall, where he had promised Hermione he was going to meet the trio. A part of him wondered at the ease with which she had extracted that promise, while another decided to echo her earlier advice about melodrama. He had just finished eating a roll when Weasley and Granger came over to him, conspicuously a man short.

"Harry has Quidditch practice this morning," Hermione said, responding to the inquisitive look on Bruce's face.

"Yeah, Wood is trying to get in some extra training, no doubt trying to make up for last year," Ron added as he picked up a piece of toast from the table, ignoring the looks from the few other Slytherin students that were present.

"We were planning to go watch him practice. Do you want to come?" Hermione asked.

Bruce mulled it over in his mind before answering the question.

"I'm not sure I would be welcome."

"Don't worry, we'll clear you with the others. Besides, it'll be easier than trying to track you down after practice." Ron began munching on the toast after finishing his sentence. Bruce was still reluctant, but relented when Hermione tugged on his arm.

"Great! Now, you can carry the jelly." Ron handed the Slytherin a jar of grape and raspberry jam after they had made their way to the Gryffindor table. He then picked up a few more breakfast items and the group headed towards the Quidditch field.

They settled in the lower row, near the field. Not far away was a first year, carrying with him a rather bulky-looking camera. The three munched on toast and talked of little things (though Hermione and Ron carried most of the conversation) until the sun was fully in the sky. Harry then walked out onto the field with the rest of the team, a noticeable look of sleep in his eyes. Apparently, the Gryffindor team's seeker was not entirely alert yet.

"Aren't you finished yet?" Ron called out.

"Haven't even started. Wood's been teaching us new moves." After Harry finished responding, Bruce saw the team captain, Oliver Wood, take the boy aside. There was some hushed muttering from Wood, no doubt about Bruce, with assurances to the contrary from Potter. Meanwhile, the Slytherin munched on another piece of toast and kept a careful watch on their conversation.

"Wood's not going to kick you out," Hermione said, after catching Bruce staring at the two.

It was then that something else caught Bruce's attention and he stood up, getting his wand ready.

"What is it?" Ron asked.

"Trouble, most likely," Bruce replied as he made his way onto the field with Hermione and Weasley following.

A pack of Slytherins, the Quidditch team to be exact, had made their way onto the field. Wood was obviously furious at this, especially when Draco Malfoy started showing off his broom. Bruce then glance at the rest of the group and found that they were all in possession of new brooms. Why had he not been aware of this? Usually Malfoy loudly announces any kind of stunt similar to this a couple of days beforehand in the Slytherin dormitory. Was he becoming more cautious due to Bruce's presence? If so, then the Wayne heir would have to modify his surveillance techniques.

"What's happening?" Ron asked. "Why aren't you playing? And what's _he_ doing here?"

"I'm the Slytherin Seeker, Weasley." Malfoy smugly responded. "Everyone's just been admiring the new brooms my father bought the team."

"Once again using money to replace ability," Bruce's tone was a mixture of disgust and sarcasm.

"I wasn't asking for your opinion, you traitorous mudblood," Malfoy shot back.

All the assembled Gryffindors, save for Hermione and Harry, gave a slight gasp when they heard Malfoy's insult. Bruce took a few steps forward and all eyes were now on him.

"Perhaps you've forgotten the last time you called me that." Bruce's voice was dangerously low. Malfoy, looking a bit nervous, decided to continue.

"You can't do anything to me here, you insane mudblood, so why don't you just shut up and run home to your parents."

He could not exactly recall what happened, but before he realized it, Bruce was on top of Malfoy, ready to put his fellow Slytherin in the hospital wing. Harry and Ron were trying to pull him off, but to no avail. It was only when Bruce had almost managed to break one of Malfoy's fingers that he felt himself thrown back on the ground, in a sort of daze.

"Who did that!" Ron yelled, though no one came forward.

Bruce, meanwhile, was trying to get to his feet and constantly failing in every attempt. He was unable to stand upright or even tell up from down. Falling flat on his face, he heard the unmistakable sounds of Malfoy and the other Slytherins laughing at him.

"Maybe that will teach you your place, mudblood," Malfoy sneered.

Bruce wanted nothing more at that moment than to teach Malfoy an entirely new meaning of the word 'pain', but found himself unable to do so much as see clearly. He felt Ron and Harry pick him up off of the grass and clutch his arms so as to keep him upright. The Slytherin barely registered the two of them talking about Hagrid's hut, or the fact that they were helping him walk and trying to keep him from falling over again.

After what seemed like an eternity (especially after getting waylaid by the Gryffindor with the camera), Bruce registered something that seemed to be the outline of the groundskeepers' hut, but it was difficult for him to tell. He then felt his body being pushed behind a nearby bush, hearing the ever – pompous voice of Gilderoy Lockhart. Had he been capable of forming coherent sentences, Bruce would have asked what was happening.

Finally, though it seemed to be yet another eternity, the Slytherin was inside Hagrid's hut, though he immediately fell out of the chair he was placed in. Off in the distance, it seemed as if the Gryffindor trio were talking to someone about him. Suddenly, a cup materialized in front of him, with a voice instructing him to drink the contents and a large hand helping to guide the mug in the direction of his mouth. A few minutes passed, and the world once again came into focus. Hagrid was still talking to the other three and they were outlying the events on the Quidditch field.

"Dirty little rat, that Malfoy," the disdain was evident in the gamekeeper's voice. "Don' blame yer friend fer jumpin' him."

"Will he be okay?" Hermione asked.

"He'll be fine. A bit of that stuff'll set him to rights."

"It's ridiculous," Ron said. "Being pure-blood doesn't mean anything. Look at Neville – he's pure-blood and has trouble remembering which side of the cauldron is up."

"I think he's coming around," Harry said.

"Yeh okay?" Hagrid asked.

"Fine," Bruce replied, more angry at himself than Malfoy. How could he have just lost control like that? It was nothing more than pure luck that he did not get hit by a worse spell.

"Jus' keep sippin' that stuff and yeh'll be good as new. Here, 'ave some treacle fudge." Hagrid said as he handed the recovering boy a piece of his homemade bakery item. Bruce took a bite from the food offered, only to find that his jaws were now stuck together.

"What did Professor Lockhart want, Hagrid?" Hermione asked.

"Givin' me advice on getting' delpies out of a well. Like I don' know. An' bangin' on about some banshee he banished. If one word of it was true, I'll eat my kettle."

"Why would Dumbledore tolerate such an incompetent," Bruce said, having managed to get his mouth open.

"He's not incompetent," Hermione responded. "Dumbledore obviously saw his talent." Hagrid gave a small laugh at that.

"Hermione, the reason he was hired was because he was the only man who applied. Gettin' hard ter find someone ter teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, on account of people thinkin' it's jinxed."

Bruce felt a surge of triumph and vindication run through him, while Hermione merely pouted at Hagrid's s response. The gamekeeper then got up and walked over to the door.

"Come on, I got somethin' ter show yeh."

The students followed him out to a vegetable patch behind his hut. In it were a dozen very large pumpkins, obviously intended for the upcoming Halloween feast.

"What have you been feeding them?" Harry asked.

"Well, I've been givin' them – you know – a bit of help - "

"An Engorgement charm," Bruce said as he examined the pumpkins. "An effective one, obviously."

"Ron's little sister said something like that when I met her yesterday. Said she was jus' lookin' round the grounds, but if yeh ask me, she was hopin' teh get one of those signed pictures Harry's been givin' out."

"I have not been giving out signed pictures!" Harry almost shouted, his voice indignant. "Lockhart has just been - " Hagrid interrupted him by laughing.

"Don' worry, I know yeh aren't like that. Lockhart is just jealous because yeh're far more famous than him."

Harry calmed down after that, though it was obvious he was still upset over it Bruce, meanwhile, found himself wondering about Weasley's sister. She seemed a bit young to correctly peg an Engorgement charm, and did not overtly display the tendencies to read up on such things that he and Hermione had. On the other hand, the Wayne heir was still largely ignorant of the minutia of the average wizard's life, so there remained the strong probability that he was suspicious over nothing.

The four students remained at Hagrid's for a little longer until it was time for lunch, at which time they bade their goodbyes to the gamekeeper. Bruce broke off from the other three, claiming that he wanted to find something to help clear his head. In reality, he wanted to be alone so he could plan an appropriate response to the day's humiliation.

It would have to be something very satisfying.

* * *

A thousand and one apologies to those who I have so bitterly disappointed with my lack of updates. I can only throw myself upon the mercy of those assembled and hope that they somehow find it in their hearts to forgive me. In explanation for my absence, I will only say this: the only thing less fun than being involved in civil lawsuits is finding out that your computer has _melted_ and you must therefore start over from scratch as all your hard copies have vanished.

I am not terribly fond of this chapter, for reasons that will probably be obvious. If I receive enough complaints, I may just take it down and rewrite it. Let me know what you think! All reviews/ e-mails/ private messages/ smoke signals are welcome.


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